I found this Story to be Quite Disturbing.

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This narrative was relayed to me by Devin Lok’ri, who learned it from Terrana Lok’ri, who learned it from Shirin Lok’ri, who learned it from Ajram Varaz, who learned it from Ximena Ramir, who learned it from Aritcio Tarum, who learned it from Valeria Tarum, who found an account by Dari Tarum in the Tarum family archive. Dari’s text claimed to be a personal account of these events, though this is not verifiable. I pray that God and the Faithful find this story pleasing and edifying.

In the days of the Udorian wars, when Saint Junip was alive and campaigning in the name of the Faith, Dari Tarum was a ship captain tasked with maintaining supply lines. The leader of the fleet was one Zaragram Arda, a man full of hubris who when sober believed himself greater than all the military leaders of his day, and when drunk believed that he was greater than the Emperors and Saints.

The night before the fleet sailed out from Dam-Torsad, Admiral Zaragram got extremely drunk. After a night of pleasure seeking and intemperate behavior he was heard to loudly declare “I am Frisceas returned! I will conquer this planet for myself, not for God, and I will become the greatest war leader Amarr has ever had! When I return they will surely make me Emperor!”

When this outburst was relayed to Captain Dari Tarum, he became gravely concerned. He spent all the remaining hours before the fleet left, and any hours he could spare while underway, leading his crew in communal hymns praising God and Frisceas.

As the fleet approached Ves-Udor, a great storm appeared out of nowhere. The sky went completely dark. The winds picked up, capsizing ships that did not adjust quickly enough. Hailstones the size of boulders slammed down on the ships, opening great rents in their decks and hulls. Admiral Zaragram saw his fleet being torn to pieces and he went out onto his deck loudly proclaiming curses against God and all the Saints. Halfway through his rant, a thunderbolt from on high struck the hubristic fool, instantly killing him.

Alone among the fleet, Captain Tarum’s ship was saved. The winds seemed to go around it. The hailstones missed it. The ship might as well have been sailing on a clear day. As the rest of the ships sank around it, the light broke through the clouds in the shape of the holy monogram of Frisceas.

When his ship made landfall, Captain Tarum ordered the construction of a holy shrine that can still be visited to this day.

I pray that all who read this concentrate their thoughts on their Duty to God and on the Communal Faith which binds all Amarr together in service to the Emperor and to God. May you never prioritise your own desires over your duty and faith. By God’s light and God’s word, Amarr will remain forever glorious.


Thousands of years ago, on Athra, before the time of Amash-Akura, Amarr Island was a patchwork of small kingdoms, that were in frequent conflict.
In one such kingdom, the king encountered a problem, in that his only child was a daughter, who was pretty, but had a sarcastic personality, that put off potential suitors, meaning that the kingdom would probably be attacked and annexed by one of the neighbouring kingdoms when the old king finally died.
This caused the king much concern, which was magnified when his daughter the princess, was abducted by a fearsome were-goat which had terrorised the kingdom.
The king let it be known that whatever brave warrior could slay the beast, would receive the princess’s hand in marriage, and inherit the kingdom. Many warriors then came to the kingdom when they heard of this offer, but all were put off when they learned that the princess had a sharp tongue and sarcastic wit.
The king despaired until one day another warrior came, who was not put off by the princess’s reputation, and said that they would slay the fearsome were-goat.
So, the warrior ventured forth to the were-goat’s lair, a cave in the mountains, and challenged the beast to come out and fight.
The were-goat came out, and said “foolish warrior, I am a fearsome were-goat and cannot be killed by any man”.
The warrior then removed their helmet, allowing their long hair to flow in the breeze, and said “I am not a man”.
Perturbed by this development, the were-goat said: “Bugger.”
The warrior then fought and killed the were-goat, putting an end to its campaign of terror, and rescued the princess from the cave, finding that she had put on a few kg, having subsisted almost entirely on goat cheese for the duration of her ordeal. “Alas”, she cried, “for I am chubby and no longer conventionally attractive”.
The warrior replied “fear not, milady, for I like a woman with a bit of chub. Gives me something to hang onto, grr”.
For the first time in her life, the princess was genuinely lost for words.
After returning to the old king, with the fleece of the were-goat, the king who had not realised the warrior was a woman, since she was wearing a visored helm when she met the king, and properly fitted plate armour does not reveal the sex of the wearer, agreed that despite the fact that it was most irregular, that a deal was a deal, and the warrior and princess would be married.
Though the king did have concerns about inheritance, which were allayed when the warrior woman revealed she had a twin brother who would be available to impregnate the princess as necessary.
Thus in the fullness of time, the princess ascended to the throne and ruled the kingdom as co-queen with the warrior woman, and the kingdom persisted until such time as Emperor Amash-Akura united Amarr island.

The Moral of the Story, is that One should not be Rigidly Constrained by societal Expectations, as those can Change over Time.


The Boy who cried "Wolf"

Once there was a young tribesman who was assigned sentry duty to protect the clan’s assets from outsiders and predators. Sentry duty is long and boring, and one day, the young lad decided to shout out “Wolf !”, for his own amusement.
The clanspeople rushed out at the alarm, and there was much consternation, which amused the young lad, but eventually it was found that there was no wolf, and the clanspeople returned to their previous tasks.
The next day, the young lad decided to shout “Wolf !” again, and again, the clanspeople rushed out in alarm, much consternation was had, but not quite as much as before. The lad was amused at this though.
The day after that, the lad called out “Wolf !” once more, but this time only a few clanspeople came out at the alarm, though amongst them was a clan elder who admonished the lad for making false reports. The young lad disregarded this reprimand however.
Another day arrived, the lad took up his sentry position, and to his surprise, saw that there was indeed a wolf approaching. He called out “Wolf !” but there was no response. He called again “Wolf ! Wolf !”, and yet, there was no reply from the clanspeople, who by now had ceased to consider his game amusing in any way, shape or form.
Panicking as the wolf approached, the lad called out “Wolf !” once more, but to his horror, the only reply was from the wolf.
Except it wasn’t a wolf after all, it was a Jaguar with a hard counter-fit, and the silly young lad was killed, and when the clanspeople eventually arrived after he had failed to return from sentry duty, the elder said “Oh, a wolf got him. How ironic”.

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Once upon the time there was an old farmer who had worked his crops for many years. One day his horse ran away. Upon hearing the news, his neighbors came to visit. “Such bad luck,” they said sympathetically

“Maybe,” the farmer replied.

The next morning the horse returned, bringing with it three other wild horses. “How wonderful,” the neighbors exclaimed.

“Maybe,” replied the old man.

The following day, his son tried to ride one of the untamed horses, was thrown, and broke his leg. The neighbors again came to offer their sympathy on his misfortune.

“Maybe,” answered the farmer.

The day after, military officials came to the village to draft young men into the army. Seeing that the son’s leg was broken, they passed him by. The neighbors congratulated the farmer on how well things had turned out.

“Maybe,” said the farmer.


But Mama I don’t want the wind

Once upon a time before the Darkness there was a spoiled heir to Sarinde. He was a gifted little boy in all things of tradition, pleasing his tutors both in martial arts and in the classics, knowing when to bow respectfully and when to act precocious.

But as he was sweet and gifted, cute and polite, he was also very used to having his way.

One day his birth-mother took him to the seaside. And it was a lovely day, with a shining sun glittering off the pebbles, with crowds of kinsfolk walking the boulevard, with all sorts of treats and amusements being sold.

“Mama, I want an icecream,” said the boy, and his mother bought him one.

“Mama, I want a balloon,” said the boy, and his mother bought him one.

“Mama, I want a scrunchie-on-a-stick”, said the boy, and his mother bought him one.

“Mama, I want to play beach ball,” said the boy, and his mother convinced some kinsfolk to include him in their game.

“Mama, I want to go swimming”, said the boy. Now, that day, the wind was high, and the sea was rough, and mother told him no.

“We cannot go swimming in this surf, we will surely drown.”

The boy begged and pleaded, but the mother was a sensible woman, and she kept her calm and kept on telling him no.

And so the boy had a meltdown on the beach side boulevard, and he bawled, “But Mama I do not want the wind!”

And all the kinsfolk who saw that, the icecream parlor owner and the balloon blower and the woman boiling the scrunchies-on-a-stick and the kinsmen playing ball, they all laughed at him.

And when he grew up and became the Chief of Sarinde and the enforcer of the law, whenever his head grew a tad too big, his Circle smiled at him and whispered “but I do not want the wind”, and he ground his teeth but controlled himself.

The wind is free and without bound. It cares not if you want it. It is what it is, and you adjust your plans to it, or you drown.


A lullaby, a simple one, that I have sung - and continue to sing - to my children, both in womb and as newborn babes. I remember my mother singing it, so I assume it’s been passed down over the generations:

“I see the moon, The moon sees me,
God bless the moon, and God bless me”

“I see the stars, The stars see me,
God bless the stars, and God bless me’”

“I know the Sefrim watches over me.
God bless the Sefrim, And God bless me.”


A very short story of my own design as told by myself at the party today. It is as of yet, unnamed.

Not all that long ago, a group of capsuleers was roaming the outers. We'll call them, DarkSnide. They were in a fairly formidable gang of cruisers of navy and pirate design. They were confident. They were a group of hotshot pilots with loyalty to none but themselves. And today, they had a target in mind.

Their target was another group of roaming capsuleers. We’ll call them, Electric Mariachi. They had a couple destroyers, a couple frigates, a couple cruisers, and a battlecruiser. They were also roaming the outers, looking for hostiles. DarkSnide had a bead on them. Their fleet far outmatched that of Electric Mariachi in terms of general firepower.

DarkSnide, chased after Electric Mariachi, jumping into them and taking out several of the smaller ships, turning all of their firepower onto one of the destroyers. It happened to be a Svipul, which shifted to its defense mode. One of the cruisers, a Scythe, poured all of its capacitor into energizing that Svipul’s shields, and between the mitigation and the reps, it was holding. But DarkSnide knew that the Svipul was a problem, so they kept focused on it! The battlecruiser and cruiser of Electric Mariachi tore down the higher class cruisers of DarkSnide, one by one, but they continued to focus on the Svipul.

Eventually, the Svipul was breaking… and then… it warped off. But then the DarkSnide cruisers still up looked at the battlefield, and they did not have the firepower to stand against the rest of their opponents. They had pulled defeat from the jaws of victory.

At the end, but a single cruiser from the DarkSnide fleet was able to limp away from the fight. They hyper focused on a little problem without understanding the root cause. This led to them not only not dealing with it, but letting two very big problems get out of hand. One must be careful to look at the whole picture and plan accordingly. Sometimes, if you don’t, you can lose everything.


A stray Lamb stood drinking early one morning on the bank of a woodland stream. That very same morning a hungry Wolf came by farther up the stream, hunting for something to eat. He soon got his eyes on the Lamb. As a rule Mr. Wolf snapped up such delicious morsels without making any bones about it, but this Lamb looked so very helpless and innocent that the Wolf felt he ought to have some kind of an excuse for taking its life.

“How dare you paddle around in my stream and stir up all the mud!” he shouted fiercely. “You deserve to be punished severely for your rashness!”

“But, your highness,” replied the trembling Lamb, “do not be angry! I cannot possibly muddy the water you are drinking up there. Remember, you are upstream and I am downstream.”

“You do muddy it!” retorted the Wolf savagely. “And besides, I have heard that you told lies about me last year!” “How could I have done so?” pleaded the Lamb. “I wasn’t born until this year.”

“If it wasn’t you, it was your brother!”

“I have no brothers.”

“Well, then,” snarled the Wolf, “It was someone in your family anyway. But no matter who it was, I do not intend to be talked out of my breakfast.”

And without more words the Wolf seized the poor Lamb and carried her off to the forest.


A general is studying his plans for a battle drawing near. One of his subordinates, troubled by curiosity, is trying to get a few words on how the strategy will unfold.
“Do you know how to keep a secret?” asks the general.
“I do, sir,” answers the subordinate.
“Good,” says the general, “so do I.”


A lot of great stories here. Entertaining read.

My story telling skills suck, so none from me, but keep them coming.

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Delighful readings, much things to learn. I’m not a storyteller myself, I don’t remember any stories. This place is like a window opened to New Eden’s tales.

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That story is kinda dry, lovely.

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This is hardly a story, rather it is a prayer or theology. Far be it from me to suggest such things do not belong on the IGS, but I would request you make another thread.

I’m wondering how long it will be before another Amarr comes along and rebukes the poster for not being Amarrian enough?

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If one does, they can do it in another thread.

Once upon a time, there was an IGS forum poster that posted something that was completely fictional, but touched their heart in some way.

Then another person told them that it wasn’t a story, but a prayer, and told them to not post personal story prayers in the story thread.

Then another person wondered how long it would be before other fictional story prayer people would rebuke the original story teller,

Then the forum mom popped in again and told them to move the story prayer.

The End.


I’m not “forum mom” though; just the OP of this particular thread.

If you go up it, you will see that stories from all cultures, about all sorts of gods and spirits have been welcome.

But I wish to keep this one for stories, myths and legends. There is room on the IGS for other things and should someone start a thread for prayers and credos I might participate. I merely asked people to respect the purpose of this one.

Now back to our regular programming, please.


This narrative was relayed to me by Devin Lok’ri, who learned it from Terrana Lok’ri, who learned it from Shirin Lok’ri, who learned it from Ajram Varaz, who learned it from Doriam Tol-Araz, who learned it from Damianos Alvarre, who learned it from Trahan Alvarre, who learned it from Maryam Alvarre. Before the time of Maryam, it is unclear where the story originated. Its details are of doubtful veracity, but carries some interest. I pray that God and the Faithful find this story pleasing and edifying.

In the days when Amarr was a single island, in the last years of the quiet times, the Emperor at the time believed that the Empire was at the largest extent it could possibly reach. In those times, our ancestors did not understand the science of shipbuilding, or of navigation, or of making war at sea. That Emperor believed that all would be well, and it would be their lot to rule a peaceful state, in which all was in order.

One day, however, a small three masted ship with a black hull, the likes of which no Amarr had ever seen, laid anchor outside Dam-Torsad, and from it came foriegners who did not speak our language. The Emperor ordered that these foreigners be treated with honour, as guests, and eventually enough language was shared that he came to understand that they were Udorians, from Ves-Udor, and that they offered trade. Being a kindly ruler, the Emperor acquiesced, and the Udorian ships began to appear with their black masts and cloud-like sails.

From their ships came luxuries, but also maladies. Every bolt of Udorian silk unloaded into Dam-Torsad, every amphora of wine, and every sailor on shore leave brought corruption, sickness, and vice to Amarr island. Waves of disease spread from the ports. Waves of ideas that threatened the divine order came from the sailors, enticing commoners to leave Amarr forever. Waves of corruption through finery corrupted the Holders, leading them to neglect their duty to their subjects. For fifty years the black ships of the Udorians were allowed to bring disaster to Amarr.

However, eventually the Blessed Emperor died and their successor looked on the empire and despaired. All was falling into disorder and apostacy. At first, the young Emperor attempted to end the problem with the methods of his predecessor. He talked to the Udorian representatives and kindly asked them to leave. They refused. When he pressed the matter, they became explicit: “We control the seas and there is nothing you can do that will prevent us from bringing our ships to your little island. You should be greatful that we have only brought trade and not armies, but if you refuse us that could change.”

Their ears ringing from this threat, the Emperor retired in despair. During the night, however, the Prophet Gheinok and the Emperor Amash-Akura seemed to appear in a dream. They told the Emperor: “Do not despair! For God has given you everything that you need to make Amarr safe once more!” Waking up from the night, the Emperor pondered what exactly had been meant by this dream. Was it divine revelation? Was it a figment of their imagination? How could one tell such a thing?

As the Emperor was about to call a priest to discuss the matter, they went out to the balcony of the palace, from the window they saw the crew of one of the Udorian convoy’s escort warships leave their ship in a disorderly drunken mob. Suddenly, the Emperor understood what needed to be done.

The Emperor immediately, with new energy and life, convened the Council and outlined the plan: “The Udorians might have dominance over the seas, they might stand proud and arrogant and make their threats, and they might for a moment indeed have Amarr at their mercy. But if they believe this, they have underestimated us. Their only ability to threaten us comes from control of the sea, and they have already given to us all we need to take that from them. So, tonight, we are going to arrest every last one of these foreigners, board every last ship, and build a wall of wood that will protect Amarr from any who might threaten it. Then, we will take those ships and that knowledge, and we will use it to make absolutely sure that their arrogance can never threaten us again.” Saying this, the Emperor made all of their orders and preparations. They first arranged for the tavernas of the city to be especially generous that night, drawing as many of the Udorians in as possible, and they prepared in hidden coves a fleet of coastal boats. Well into the night, when the Udorians were settling into their debauchery, the Emperor set all of the bells in the palace ringing, signalling that the time to strike had arrived.

The Imperial Guard stormed all of the docked ships and then arrested every Udorian found in Dam-Torsad. The coastal boats rowed out under cover of darkness to swarm the few Udorian ships in the harbor that were not docked. Messengers ran out to the rest of the island, informing the Holders of other harbors that they should also arrest all Udorians and seize their ships.

Then, with the immediate threat contained, the Emperor set about learning how ships worked. The ships were dismantled, board by board, sheet by sheet, with every piece labelled clearly so that it could be copied and reassembled. The sailors were interrogated and pressed into the service of the Empire. In this moment Amarr learned to build a navy. Carpenters took the base design of a Udorian light warship, and copied the core of the design. Then the Council of Apostles inspected the diagrams, and made a wide variety of changes to make the ships more in accord with divinely revealed design principles. Where the Udorian design had featured black hulls, the new design was made of a light coloured wood. Where the Udorian aesthetic was utilitarian, the new ships featured reliefs and golden inscriptions praising God and the Saints.

When they were done, the Emperor ordered the construction of an entire fleet of ships. Some of his advisors suggested that perhaps he should order this new fleet to attack Assimia, after all, Assimians were the ones who had forced the Prophet’s second exile! But the Emperor, wise for their years, declined: “The Assimians cannot threaten us in our homes, but the Udorians can, we must always prioritise defeating those enemies who have the greatest ability to hurt our people and the Faith.”

So, the Golden Fleet set out to Ves-Udor to fight the Black Fleet of the Udorians. This first fleet failed. The Emperor learned from the loss and refined the designs and tactics of their navy. A second, third and fourth fleet followed. Each one met the same fate, and each time the Emperor learned from the defeat and improved the designs. But the fifth fleet, well, that fleet came back victorious. Hundreds more followed in its wake, breaking forever the Udorian’s control of the sea. By the time that Emperor died, the Reclaiming was well under way and Amarr was safe again.

I pray that all who read this concentrate their thoughts on their Duty to God and on the Communal Faith which binds all Amarr together in service to the Emperor and to God. May we always prove resilient in service of the protection of the Divine Order of Amarr, even against threats that seem insurmountable. By God’s light and God’s word, Amarr will remain forever glorious.


For context it’s important to know that many schools in the Empire, during times when teenagers have dances or formals, will have a phrase something like “Keep enough space between you for Gheinok, Junip, Anoyia, and Kuria.” The books are different in different places but it means that dancing partners should not become too close to one another, for obvious reasons. A very long time ago I composed a rude limerick centered on that proposition which I now share with you. I think it serves as a light, sugary treat following the wholesome, but heavy, tale shared very graciously by Lord Lok’ri.

Anywho, the ditty:

Apostles to temper teen attraction,
There to stop handsy boys gaining traction,
And while they got paid,
For no boy got laid,
It’s cause the Saints got all the action.